Made Poetry A Mere Mechanic Art.

O Winter, Ruler Of The Inverted Year!

E'er Since, By Faith, I Saw The Stream Thy Flowing Wounds Supply, Redeeming Love Has Been My Theme, And Shall Be Till I Die.

God Forbid That Judges Upon Their Oath Should Make Resolutions To Enlarge Jurisdiction.

My Soul Is Sick With Every Day's Report Of Wrong And Outrage With Which Earth Is Filled.

Where Penury Is Felt The Thought Is Chain'd, And Sweet Colloquial Pleasures Are But Few.